


Wednesday's Child

by AuthenticAussie



Series: and we can watch the stars on the water [41]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Christmas Fics 2014, M/M, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2754485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthenticAussie/pseuds/AuthenticAussie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a Thursday when red first graces his upper lip on the Merry, when a tiny trickle of blood steals from his nose, and he only notices when the taste of iron is in his mouth; his nose is bleeding.</p>
<p>Again.</p>
<p>  <i>Monday's child is fair of face,</i><br/>Tuesday's child is full of grace,<br/>Wednesday's child is full of woe,<br/>Thursday's child has far to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> I am a weak baby and almost made myself cry while writing this whooops~
> 
> A Christmas gift for the wonderful Nezkovsou! (And yes, he did request a death fic. I didn't decide to write this to foster Christmas cheer and spirit.)
> 
> Also, beta'd by the lovely Beyond Kailani! (Ahh, so very very happy I have a beta. :3 Means I can give you guys even better fics! ^/u\^)

 

It’s a Thursday when red first graces his upper lip on the Merry, when a tiny trickle of blood steals from his nose, and he only notices when the taste of iron is in his mouth; his nose is bleeding.

Again.

Alone in the kitchen, Sanji raises his hand in surprise to touch the curve where his lip and nose meet, taking away his fingers to see them wet with red.

A question hovers in his mind, shock and curiosity a mix that muddles the words he wants to phrase and ask himself, but the sentence won’t come, merely the feeling of  _what?_

The door opens, loud chattering filling Merry’s kitchen and he jumps, turning his back and chopping vegetables, glad that there’s a side bench he can use so that whoever entered can’t see his face.

He had thought that these had stopped when he set off to sail, or at least ceased in their intensity and frequency, but as he slices the carrots into thin circles, he can see a droplet of blood hang, than splatter onto his cutting board. His lip curls at the sight, irritated with the unsanitary contamination of the place where he was preparing food, but he can’t turn around and clean it, nor grab another one with someone staring holes into his back.

Luffy and Usopp are out of the question as culprits; the both of them are too loud to do anything but talk when they enter his domain, even if Usopp can be quiet while he works. Zoro would’ve most likely insulted him for not turning around, and while he’s yet to get used to Chopper and how the little doctor would enter his kitchen when plagued with a question, he thinks that Chopper would’ve preferred to go to Zoro instead of him.

Possibly because of all the absent mumblings he had about reindeer soup, even if he hadn’t meant them.

Another droplet falls onto his cutting board, narrowly missing the carrots, and he swallows, keeping his lips closed even as liquid slides over his mouth and dribbles to his chin.

His sleeve and bare arm will come away bright red if he even thinks about wiping the blood away and whoever’s in the kitchen would surely notice. He knows that from an unfortunate experience that had left Zeff shouting at him and dragging him to get checked out by a doctor, despite his protests.  

Nami would’ve already picked up on his lack of swooning and offerings of tea, he guesses, and Vivi has kept herself close to the navigator, like Nami’s longing for gold will keep her safe from any untoward advances. Though he doesn’t want for such a lady to be afraid of him, Sanji does understand that living with bounty hunters for three years would not have left her viewing the world through rose-tinted glasses.

There’s no-one left on the crew he can think of that would possibly enter the galley quietly, without fuss, and continue to  _not_ cause a protest when not faced with any of Sanji’s attention or acknowledgement.

No-one but-

“You’re arrogant, to have your back to someone who may be an enemy.”

Ace.

Luffy’s ‘older brother’. Though how they can be related, Sanji is seriously debating. Ace is polite and can keep a cool head, and he most certainly has good strategies, unlike their captain’s own ‘punch it until it falls down’ tactic.

“I figured you aren’t,” Sanji replies, the corner of his mouth twisting as blood refuses to stop dripping from his nose. He considers swearing – it would certainly make  _him_ feel better – but he isn’t sure where Ace’s boundaries lie, isn’t sure how carefully he must step around the current (though only temporary addition) to their crew. “I trust my captain, and my captain trusts you.”

There’s a soft sound, like an almost quiet snort of amusement, but it’s so soft that Sanji would’ve had to turn around if he wanted to see the smile on Ace’s face.

It’s weird, how much he wants to.

But just like he doesn’t want the crew to worry about his nosebleeds, he doesn’t want this virtual stranger to either, even if he is polite. 

He will leave soon enough, and Sanji has enough worries to decorate his shoulders without having to worry about Luffy’s brother’s reaction to his keeping a small secret from his crew. And it is small. He’s sure there’s nothing to worry about.

Ace’s footsteps are relatively quiet as he sits down, only the scrape of wood as he pulls out the bench and offers silent companionship. Sanji does usually enjoy having someone in the kitchen with him, quiet or conversational, right now he just wants to clean off the blood he knows is going to dry if he doesn’t get rid of it soon.

He feels trapped, stuck against the counter. If he tries, Sanji is sure he can get out of the kitchen relatively easily, but then what’s he to do? He would have to avoid everyone in efforts to get to the bathroom, and while getting rid of the blood that has finally stopped dripping is high on his list of priorities, there is no appeal in having to sneak past the members of his crew. 

There would be questions to answer, with answers he doesn’t want to give, and so he continues to slice paper thin cuts of carrot as Ace fiddles with something on the table.

 “Would you follow him to find the One Piece?” Ace mutters quietly, half to himself, and Sanji feels the ghost of a smile flicker across his face. He can hear Ace’s hidden accusation, the protective flare that proves to him that this is  _definitely_ Luffy’s brother.  _Would you follow him forever, to find something that exists almost as a myth?_

He lays the knife down in the remains of the carrots, and moves over to the sink, carefully bending his head down as though he merely wanted to refresh himself by splashing water onto his face. “Don’t you think that’s what I’m doing?”

_My dream is a myth too, that’s what some people say._

* * *

 The second nose bleed happens a few days later, Monday this time, in the morning when no-one else is awake. He’s thankful for that, but he still can’t help but curse at the bright red that stands out against his skin in the fogged mirror.

Something must be irritating both his nose and his illness for him to have two in one week. His muscles feel like they are vibrating with irritation. He doesn’t need this, doesn’t need the perceived weakness, nor the coddling he’s sure to receive from Chopper if the doctor learns about his sickness.

That, or Chopper will grow three times his usual size and growl at Sanji about smoking – and he’s had enough lectures about that habit to be completely  _over_ it. 

Smoking may irritate and cause his nosebleeds, but it’s not like they wouldn’t happen anyway.

Heaving a sigh, the blond cook peered closer to the mirror, dabbing at the red that stained his upper lip and pinching his nose in efforts to get it to stop faster.

He doesn’t notice the click of the door as it opens. He does, however, hear a quick inhale and his head immediately snaps to see Luffy’s brother in the doorway, eyes wide.

“The hell is this?” Ace demands, stern expression trying to hide the flash of concern.

Sanji considers swearing again, instead using his hand to cover more of the blood that dribbles from his nose and off his chin, and though he knows he sounds like a petulant child he still says, “ _Nothing_.”

“Are you  _kidding?_ ” Ace spits at him, mouth dropping open as though shocked by Sanji’s words. “I’m going to go get Chop-”

“No!” He  _can’t!_ Sanji doesn’t want his crew to be worried about him, though he’s only been travelling with them for such a short time. Now, Vivi is more important, and even afterwards their dreams can’t afford a sick cook slowly dying in his kitchen while they search for a nonexistent cure. “ _Don’t_ -!”

“Why  _not_?” Ace gestures, arm snapping taut as he indicates the blood that stains the tiles, “You’re  _bleeding!_ ”

“It’s a  _nosebleed,_ ” Sanji growls in return, knowing the desperate thought  _stop stop stop please stop_ bounces around in his head but not know what it’s directed at. “I’ve had them before, and it will  _go away!_ ”

“You’ve had them  _before,_ and you won’t tell your doctor?” Ace’s lip looks like it’s trying to curl into a growl, twitching, “Why the hell not?  If you’re sick then-”

“I’m not fucking  _sick!_ ” he shoots back angrily, teeth bared, but what he doesn’t say is;

_I’m dying._

“If you’re not going to tell your crew,” Ace growls, narrowed eyes holding a threat, “then you’re going to write me letters, and you’re going to tell  _me_ how you are,  _truthfully_. Which one’s better? Letting a stranger into your head, or having your doctor check out a  _nosebleed_? If it’s nothing, like you say it is, then you can just go to him!”

The brunet looks victorious as he crosses his arms and glares at Sanji, like the ultimatum he has laid down will force Sanji to do what he wants. But Sanji has had more than enough practice bending and not breaking, of compromising for the things he wants to keep.

It doesn’t mean he can’t feel cheated from his close-kept secret, though. “Fine, I’ll write,” he grumbles, clenching his jaw and seeing Ace’s eyes widen at the unexpected reply. “Now get out!”

* * *

It’s the cusp of Wednesday and Thursday, late in the night, when the inhabitants of the island he’s managed to land himself on finally let him see what happened at the Battle.

When he  _really_ sees what happens, he can feel his heart latch itself somewhere in his throat and expand, choking him till something burns in his eyes.

Sanji can’t speak, because Ace tells them to  _leave him._

Like he doesn’t understand how very precious he is to the world.

Like the blood he carries is a curse that he alone must suffer.

Like there aren’t people who are laying down their lives so he can  _live_.

When Ace is released from the sea stone that forces his neck into an unwilling bow, waiting for the sword, Sanji can feel his heart practically skip a beat in agony, because he doesn’t want to see what comes next.

He doesn’t need to see how Luffy’s face lights up when Ace’s fire is finally free, how Ace finally looks like he is ready to  _fight_ again. How close they seem to escape, just bare steps from the open arms of the sea and freedom.   

He doesn’t want to, and he doesn’t need that agony to tear up his arms and his chest and every part of himself he can  _feel._ His captain’s broken look is a vicious burn to his flesh, like he’d been the one impaled on Akainu’s fist rather than Ace.

**_BREATHE!_** His body screams at him desperately.

And he does. He heaves in a strangled, twisted, half-gasp that stops in his chest as he is reminded again of the damage that the Battle has wrought.

His lungs seem to shake, chest seemingly tries to rock from the cage formed by the stretch of skin over ribs, and everything feels wound tighter than a spring’s coil.  _Breathe,_ becomes his desperate, howling mantra, his body forcing him to keep inhaling precious oxygen like he is a drowning man, and it feels like he is. For all that his feet are on solid land, it feels like the ground has been ripped from beneath him, and someone has fastened hands around his throat, slowly tightening their grip.

The video captured by the tiny snail phone the marines had used shorts out, static as someone injures the creature. Sanji lunges for the animal, a plea on his lips for the image to return.

It doesn’t, and he’s left cradling the last image Ace left in his world, which only measures the steps he can walk till he meets the sea.

_Come back to me,_ he wants to cry, but all that comes is something clear that trickles down his cheek and splatters on the ground by his knee.  _Come back to me, because you promised you wouldn’t leave._     

* * *

He takes another deep drag of the cigarette and can recall the memory of soft lips curled around a laugh as they pressed against his cheek, lit fire along his skin and made him jump, startled.

Ace seems to take great delight in seeing his caught-in-headlights look, and while Sanji notices that even though Zoro can do a lovely impression of a rabbit when Luffy does something particularly forward, Ace only presses his affections on  _Sanji_  as he leaves.

Luffy grins and does his silly little laugh as Ace waves and separates from their group, leaving them for his own path, and his captain seems completely unworried about his older brother’s fate.

Sanji kicks him for the knowing grin he sends the cook.   

It is a memory he thought he’d forgotten, through the span of the danger-filled days he had with the crew. Still, he can’t help but wonder if all of his goodbyes are going to be bitter sweet, because that was the last time he’d seen Ace in the flesh, and  _alive._

The letters became precious commodities, Ace’s voice careful but clear in them, especially when Sanji squints and can see where Ace has crossed out words and sentences he likely deemed too silly to include.

He still holds out on the hope that the next time Wednesday rolls around, the news gulls will bring him another letter, just one that contains  _something more_ for him to hang on to, and though it pains him he still keeps that hope burning in his chest.

He doesn’t admit that he likes Wednesdays, for all that they hurt, because Wednesday was the first day he got a letter.

* * *

It was a Tuesday the first time Ace’s lips touched his skin.

An innocent brush against his shoulder as Ace rested his head there before pulling away, surveying the patch of sand that seemed utterly identical to the other patches of sand that surround them. Even though it’s been years now, the memory can still make a tendril of warmth tingle his shoulder, and make his cheeks feel like they’re flushing.

 “’S just cheating if you jump ship first,” he mumbled, tightening his hands around the burnt stub of the cigarette in his hand, and it folds inwards like wet paper, “’Specially since you can’t swim, bastard.” The white surf left behind them as Sunny travels the New World is brilliant. It looks like snow on the tips of the waves, and he lets the cigarette fall overboard and be swallowed by the sea. His hands latch onto the banister without anything else to keep them busy, and he can feel how his limbs ached from the pressure of holding on, of staying strong in the middle of a seemingly relentless storm.

His hands shook, quavering with how tightly he latched to the wood, and Sanji had to force himself to let go before he accidently got splinters stuck in his hands and Franky telling him off for doing damage to the ship.

His nose crinkles, a quiet sniff as his breath hitches and his jaw locks. Sanji relishes the ache of biting down on his teeth, like he’s biting down on his arm to hold back the ache that threatens to overwhelm his chest.

Compartmentalisation only works so much, even if he fits all his memories into neat little boxes labelled ‘look’ and ‘ _do not touch_ ’.

He’d never learnt to keep his hands to himself, especially after Ace proved that physical affection and touch was something he welcomed, if Sanji decided to offer it.

And a couple of days and a month of letters should not have left him with such a hollow ache in his chest…

But it does anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the last letter

The breeze that they came upon as they neared the island was nice; it almost seemed to be trying to blow away the chill of winter that clung to them from the last island they’d docked on, and Sanji was glad of the slightly warmer weather. Though having gotten used to the strange seasonal changes of the islands in the Grand Line, he still liked it when the weather was warmer – his beautiful ladies wore much less when the sun shone brightly!

Inhaling the last of his cigarette and very firmly pushing back the tiny, nagging voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Chopper chiding him for smoking, the cook snubbed out the cigarette on the ash bowl sitting in the centre of the table. Though he had yet to get started on breakfast – which he knew Luffy would be impatient to ask for as soon as he’d woken – Sanji was waiting for something to happen.

It _was_ a Wednesday, after all.

Though his fingers itched to grab another cigarette to stave off the slight nerves that bubbled in his chest, Sanji instead forced himself to turn his attention to listening for the news carrier’s wings as it landed, bringing him a letter from Ace.

The sunrise was just starting to fade the sky into a beautiful, cloudless blue when Sanji heard wings, and he eagerly jumped from the table, uncaring of his obvious excitement and the quiet clatter of the chair legs as he almost tipped it over. He had to compose himself before going through the back door of the kitchen, lest he scare the bird away, but he couldn’t help feeling his heart pound in his chest.

The bird was preening its feathers as Sanji came outside, hands jammed in his pockets to keep from merely grabbing the letter from the bird and running away with it, and he quickly procured the coin for Nami’s news and his letter, trying shove both into the little pouch the bird had on its leg.

It took the first coin, but not the second.

Sanji’s brow furrowed in confusion as the newspaper hit the deck in front of him. Then, anger replaced it, and he glared at the bird. "Oy, you said same place, same time!" Sanji accused, while the bird almost seemed irritated by Sanji’s words. “Where the hell is my letter?”

He couldn’t expect the bird to understand, but as Sanji lunged for the creature, attempting to grab the thing’s letter pouch and find Ace’s letter, it skittered to the side, ruffling its feathers and then flapping it’s wings, taking off from the ship. “ _HEY!_ ” Sanji shouted, practically leaning over the rails and almost falling overboard in an attempts to catch the bird, “Come back!”

Not listening to the desperate blond, the bird quickly disappeared into the clouds without looking back.

Sanji had to force himself to swallow, something heavy lodging in his throat. Why hadn’t Ace given him a letter this Wednesday? Had he gotten himself lost and been unable to land and write him one?

Their letters ran like clockwork, though and Ace’d never skipped a day. He seemed almost delighted by being able to write to someone every week, telling Sanji all about the new animals and plants he’d seen, and if Sanji didn’t know any better he’d say Ace was on a holiday, not chasing a traitor. Though at first he’d been bitter over having to force himself to write Luffy’s brother a letter ever week, over time he’d gotten used to it, and it became routine; to have that routine broken was making him feel almost terrified.

Although-

Maybe Ace’s lack of a letter meant that he’d found Blackbeard, and had been sailing as fast as he could aboard Striker to get there in time, and been unable to send him one. Maybe Ace had found him, but gotten injured and was unable to write a reply to Sanji’s letter.

_Maybe he’d been fatally wounded,_ came the treacherous part of Sanji’s mind, _maybe he’s been found and overpowered by the marines. Maybe he’s fallen asleep while piloting Striker and sunken to the bottom of the ocean._

The blond pushed his fingertips against his temple, short but well kept nails digging into the skin there as though to drive away those thoughts, but he still couldn’t help the sick twist of apprehension and fear that curled in his gut.

All Sanji knew he could do now, however, was wait till next Wednesday, and hope that Ace’d be alright.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did a thing with Nezkovsou where we had the same dialogue prompt ("Same place, same time,") and wrote our own things to see the differences in what we came up with.


End file.
